Out of respect for Mr B not only r my knickers wet...
so, tonight, it is 1975 and Buk is where he should be and the fact that I was here at the right time to be able to read what he had to write is more than I deserve.
... and the whole time I thought How could that be dead? it seems impossible.
well. things are going as they should. remembering buk properly. I'm good and drunk, nothing to be proud of, any fool can get drunk, just ask my wife. and in the morning she'll be the first to tell me that. and make me get up with the kid, not quite 2 years old, the voice of reason, he'll stand stock still and stare and point, not realizing that bukowski has been dead 12 years, he'll stand stock still and stare and point and say uh ooh. well, he's right, that not quite 2 year old,he's right, uh ooh, let the world acknowledge its mistakes.
... any fool can get drunk, just ask my wife...
I raise my spoon full of cough sirup (I'm illI raise my glass to Charles Bukowski, "Hank".
...and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
Sayonara, cocksucker.Not to sound too morbid, but are there any open-casket pics of Buk?